


Submission.

by elvenwolf



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Billy is not an asshole, Flint has a kink, Funny, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Silver is loud, Silver why are you so loud, Smut, maybe a little bit of plot if you squint, so loud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvenwolf/pseuds/elvenwolf
Summary: Flint has a thing for Silver's hair.Silver has a thing for Flint having a thing for his hair.





	Submission.

            The first time Flint realizes he’s got a thing for Silver’s hair they’re at the Walrus. The sun is setting, the sea is rough but not enough for the ship, and the wind is so strong the sails are even noisier than the crew, flapping loudly.

            Silver is talking to Billy on the main deck, bracing himself on the rail purely for comfort rather than stability. He constantly shakes his head to the side, trying to whip his hair away from his face, and Billy is mustering all of his willpower to take whatever Silver is saying seriously as he tries not to grin. Flint watches from the foredeck and has to ask De Groot several times to repeat the question before Silver finally, _finally_ ties his hair up and Flint can focus again.

            The second time is a complete mess. Silver storms into his cabin, absolutely drunk and he leans into stuff for support way too late, probably because he no longer can discern the distances between him and what surrounds him. Flint is caught so off guard that he just watches, mouth agape and a small frown of confusion on his face as Silver starts to scold him for not letting Randall have a second cat on the ship.

            “Your cruelty knows no limits, captain.” His words are slurred and for every step he takes forward he trips two backwards.

            “It’s just a cat.” Flint manages to blurt out, unconsciously starting to stand up because _jesus fucking christ you’re going to crack your head open against th_ -

            And Silver is on the floor.

            Flint closes his eyes and sighs tiredly, walking to Silver to help him stand up. But when Flint is about to let go once he thinks he is stable on his knees Silver pulls him down, making both of them fall flat on the wooden floor.

            “Exactly!” Silver sounds enraged, “It’s just a cat! What’s the fucking problem?”

            Flint is astonished by the tremendous low tolerance Silver seems to have when it comes to rum. He grabs Silver’s wrists to unhook his fingers from the collar of his shirt, silently scolding him, but Silver stays firm. It’s a push and pull until Flint manages to get on his knees. When he has no other choice but to push Silver into the same position the world spins so wild and fast that Silver feels dizzy, and he lets his head fall against Flint’s chests for support, breathing deeply to control the nausea.

            Flint freezes. He looks down, watching the warm colors of the candles create patterns of shadow and light on Silver’s hair. He feels suddenly drunk too, and he raises a shaking hand to his head. He feels the softness of the locks, frowning when he realizes the salt in the air and water doesn’t seem to damage it in the slightest. His hand travels lower, slowly brushing the locks with his fingers until he finds the annoying tie blocking his path, so he rips it off. Silver doesn’t even notice, too dizzy to move and too numb to feel it. Flint feels him relaxing even more, almost falling on top of him.

            “Don’t you dare falling asleep on me.” He growls, but Silver doesn’t make a sound. An exasperated sigh leaves his body. “Silver.”

            Silver hums, half acknowledging him and half pleading for more caresses. He all but fucking rubs his head against Flint’s hand. _Un-fucking-believable_. Why the fuck does Randall want another cat when they have Silver on board.

            “Silver.” Flint calls again, this time louder. And once again Silver only hums, a distracted hand resting against Flint’s chest. “Silver!”

            Flint uses the hand that, for some reason, he still has on Silver’s head to grab a fistful of hair, pulling him up forcefully.

            Silver moans.

            It’s not a complaint nor a sign of pain, it’s a straight up shameless moan and his eyes are glassy and darkened when he is forced to look at him. Flint feels a wave of heat course through his body and going directly to his cock.

            He lets go immediately, standing up so fast that Silver falls forward and barely makes it on time before stopping the impact with his hands. Now he’s on all fours, _fucking great_.

            Flint growls and walks to the door. When he calls for Billy he is almost as drunk as Silver, but manages to put the man up to his feet and drag him out of Flint’s cabin, all the while in a fit of giggles that Silver ends up following, and when they’re finally on the deck Billy trips and they both fall down. The whole ship seems to shake with the force of the crew’s laughter. Flint rolls his eyes but the smile is already on his lips and it only makes the crew laugh harder. He goes back inside and closes the door, making sure to bolt it just in case. He barely sleeps that night.

            The third time could very well be the worst of them all. It’s the following night, and Flint is laying on his cot, his shirt completely open and a hand wrapped around his swollen cock, labored breaths making his chest rise and fall quickly. He’s so focused on the image of Silver in front of him, on his hands and knees, that he doesn’t hear the door being opened and quickly closed right after.

            Silver thinks he could die right there and be alright with it. He doesn’t’ remember a single thing of what had happened last night, but Billy and Logan had told him he had ventured into the captain’s cabin. Silver had such an amount of panic written on his face that even Randall had chuckled.

            He just wanted to apologize. Really. Just that. He didn’t ask for the show Flint is putting up in front of him.

            Flint is so close, so lost in the heat that when he does look at Silver his body doesn’t respond the way it should. Instead he bites back a choked moan and speeds up his hand, because Silver is looking at his cock and when the tip of his tongue wets his lower lip Flint comes on the spot, back arching slightly and a low and broken moan leaving his lips. Silver hasn’t moved an inch yet but he’s breathing almost as hard as Flint.

            As Flint slowly starts to come back to the world he also realizes what the fuck had just happened. His whole body starts to tense up, and Silver takes it as his cue. He flees the cabin before rage descends upon him in the form of a way too freckled pirate.

            Silver makes sure no one comes close to the cabin for a while, and it’s not like anyone tries to as they fortunately misinterpret Silver’s flushed face. He thanks his long coat for covering the hardness between his legs and only when he hears the faint drag of a chair telling him Flint has moved to the desk he dares to leave.

            For the next few days they avoid each other. There’s something floating in the air and _thank fucking god_ the crew still thinks it’s because of the captain’s disapproval for Silver’s careless and drunk behavior.

            The fourth time Flint finds Silver on his cabin. It’s not the first time he waits there for the captain whenever they have something to discuss but too many things to do to be able to settle a specific time. However, Flint doesn’t remember anything remarkable happening these past few days that could need discussion. Except, well, Silver walking in on him masturbating. But that’s something Flint definitely won’t talk about.

            Silver has other ideas. He looks at Flint from his sitting position on the captain’s chair, which for some reason doesn’t bother Flint as much as it should.

            “The men are scared to come see you.” He simply states. Flint stays at the door, back resting against it as he crosses his arms. “I told them to just knock,” there’s a change of tone when Silver says the last word, and Flint wants to punch him. “but they still want me to deliver their messages to you.”

            “Knocking is something that the quartermaster should also do.” Flint growls, immediately regretting his decision. Silver arches an eyebrow as he feels heat crippling up to his cheeks.

            “I remember now; you know?” He confesses, confusing the captain with the sudden change of subject. Flint tilts his head questioningly. “The night I came here, completely drunk. I remember now what happened.” He sees the captain tensing up against the door, too taken aback to mask it in time.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Silver stands up, walking towards Flint so slowly that the iron leg makes no noise against the floor. He doesn’t stop until he’s inches away from Flint, and he only does so because the captain has all but flushed himself flat against the door, feeling cornered. Silver knows that is something the captain completely despises.

            They look at each other until a knock on the other side of the door startles them. There’s a pause that has more questions than answers, and before the knock repeats Silver reaches the lock, bolting it perhaps too loudly. Flint tries to suppress a shiver.

            On the deck Billy looks dumbfounded, fist raised to knock a second time before hearing the loud bolt. He looks at De Groot questioningly, but the man is already turning around to leave. Billy shrugs to himself and goes back to work.

            “What are you doing?” Flint is whispering, eyes locked on the blue ones that seem to be able to reach into him and steal his soul.

            It’s now or never, Silver decides. He raises his left hand to grab Flint’s right wrist, fighting the captain’s initial instinct to pull away. He takes the last step forward, not quite touching Flint but almost, and he guides his hand up to his hair, right on the back of his head. Flint exhales shakily.

            “I remember now.” Silver repeats in a whisper.

            Flint wants to make a point, he wants to be crystal clear, he’s not one to be toyed with; but he expresses his authority in the worst way possible. He closes his fingers around Silver’s hair, hard enough to force his head slightly backwards despite not moving his hand.

            Silver feels his eyes fluttering close and he sighs. It has an effect on Flint, it awakens something inside him that he hadn’t felt the other night. A raw need to dominate.

            He lets go slowly, not feeling completely satisfied with his grip, and lets his hand travel to the nape of Silver’s neck. The quartermaster breathes in, head still tilted backwards in a way that forces his body completely still to not lose balance. He feels weak, pleasantly weak, a small shiver running down his back. Flint takes it as his cue, and his hand grabs a fistful of hair right at the back of Silver’s neck, this time rougher, harder, with purpose. Silver gasps and doesn’t fight the pull, reaching with his hands for support and grabbing Flint’s jacket to not put more weight on the iron leg than the necessary. Flint just watches, heat burning his body, as Silver breathes hard. It is painfully obvious that Silver also has a thing for Flint having a thing for his hair.

            “What do you remember?” He all but growls, bending his arm to draw Silver closer but not letting go.

            “You grabbing my hair, and me, well…” Flint indulges him and gives a pull, eliciting a moan out of Silver, allowing him to use it as is answer. “ _Yes_.” He hisses.

            It’s like a cannon being fired. Flint breathes hard through his nose and walks two steps to the side, moving away from the door. Silver’s head falls when he lets go of his hair and Flint is behind him, walking forward, coaxing Silver against the door. He crashes against it, loud enough to be dangerous.

            For the second time Bill has his fist inches away from the door, stopping his action in midair when he sees and hears the door rattle suddenly. He frowns in confusion, and turns around once more to go back to work.

            “Hands against the door.” Flint is flushed against his back, whispering into his ear, and Silver bites back a moan at the dark authority on Flint’s voice. Even with his pride fighting back, his body wants to obey.

            He rests the palms of his hands against the wood, slowly, almost as if he was bracing himself. He can feel Flint behind him, his chest against his back, his hard cock against his ass. He feels even more inebriated than the other night, Flint’s scent and heat intoxicating him. There’s a hand on his hip, keeping him still and just far enough from the door so he can’t seek the friction he needs almost desperately at this point. The other hand finds its way back to Silver’s hair, grabbing the ends of it and twisting his hand around until his knuckles are against his scalp. This time Silver moans, loud, legs shaking. Flint quickly raises the hand on his hip to cover his mouth, a growl of disapproval piercing Silver like a bullet.

            “Be quiet.” Flint growls against his ear, hot breath making him shiver.

            Silver wants to nod, but the grip on his hair doesn’t allow the movement, so he just gives in. He uses his hands on the door as leverage and starts to rub himself against Flint, shamelessly grinding his ass against Flint’s cock. For a second time Flint indulges him, lowering his head to bite at the juncture of his shoulder and neck and muffle his own moan. He’s never seen Silver like that, so submissive, so needy. It’s driving him mad. He starts thrusting back, feeling his cock slide easily between Silver’s ass cheeks even through the clothing. He tightens his grip unconsciously, pleasure taking over him, and he feels Silver’s mouth part open under his hand.

            He moves his hand so his index and middle finger slip inside Silver’s wet mouth. Silver licks and sucks, biting to try to keep himself quiet every time a moan threatens to be loud enough to be heard at the other side of the door. Flint rewards his efforts by leaving open mouthed kisses all over his neck, sucking at the skin every once in a while until the blood vessels break, blood flowing to the surface, painting the skin in dark spots. It makes Silver dizzy, heat pooling on his stomach and body shaking at the prospect of being marked.

            “Is this what you want?” Flint asks, slowing his hips down and pulling his hands away from Silver, smirking at the small whine of complaint. Silver leans his forehead against the door trying to catch his breath.

            “Yes, please.” Silver pants, turning around to face Flint. There’s a hunger written on the captain’s eyes that makes him shiver in need.

            “Begging so soon?” Flint smirks again, eyes landing on his work of art over Silver’s neck and feeling his cock twitch at the sight.

            Silver walks forward, resting his hands on Flint’s chest to make him walk backwards until the desk stops them. Silver is leaning forward, eyes on his mouth, but Flint turns his head to the side and grabs the front of Silver’s neck, pressing slightly.

            “No.” He says. Kissing would make things too intimate, and Flint is not ready to address the voice in his head that tells him the reason behind his denial. Silver just nods, eyes closing under the pleasure of Flint’s hand around his neck.

            He lets his hands slide down Flint’s chest, stopping at his crotch. He grabs and strokes and squeezes Flint’s cock until the pressure on his neck falters momentarily. The captain is looking at him with clouded eyes, panting and slowly thrusting his hips into Silver’s hands. The way he looks at Silver… it makes him want to fall to his knees and let Flint fuck his mouth until he’s coming down his throat. It makes him want to obey his every command. His body is shaking with pure need.

            “Fuck me.” He barely registers those words leaving his mouth, but Flint does. He watches him close his eyes involuntarily, his body succumbing to the rush of pleasure Silver’s petition causes. He watches the effect he has on the captain and decides he wants more. “Fuck me on your desk, _captain_.”

            Flint moans at that. The hand on Silver’s neck disappears and he turns them around so fast that he almost loses balance. He feels a hand between his shoulder blades pushing him down over the desk, and Silver lets out a shaky moan. The need and desperation is so overwhelming for both of them that when Flint pulls Silver’s breeches down and dips his fingers on the oil from the nearest lamp Silver is already moving his hips back and forth, thrusting into the air. The air in the cabin is hot and dense, suffocating them.

            Flint rubs a slick finger against Silver’s hole, making circles and pressing in just enough to drive Silver mad but not to breach past the tight muscle. He does it until Silver is grasping the edges of the desk, panting and moaning. Flint’s free hand moves to his shoulder, keeping him still against the desk, and he pushes his finger in up to the second knuckle in a swift move. Silver tenses at the feeling, immediately thrusting back, silently begging for more. And once more, Flint indulges the man for the third time, adding a second finger.

            Silver feels like he’s on fire. He turns his head in time to watch Flint pull his own cock out and stroke it a few times as he stretches him open with his fingers. Silver can’t help it, he moans loud, memories of the captain touching himself on the cot flooding his mind. Flint looks at him, frowning in reprimand, and the hand he was using to relieve some of his aching tension falls against Silver’s ass, _hard_. It catches Silver completely off guard, mouth opening in a silent cry and his cock leaking over the desk. It’s so intense that even Flint is taken aback, losing the rhythm he had set with his fingers.

            “Please,” he hears Silver gasp, forehead resting on the desk as he thrusts against Flint’s hand in his earnest. Flint groans at the sight, gripping the base of his cock to not come right there. “please, fuck me, _please_.”

            “Fuck, _Silver_.” Flint moans.

            He withdraws his fingers and reaches again for the lamp, coating his cock with the oil. He pulls at Silver’s shirt before pushing him back against the desk and takes off his own. He positions himself and pushes the head in, slowly but steady. Silver is biting his shirt, trying to be still because he knows that if he moves it will hurt, but he fucking wants it, needs it so bad. So Silver thrusts back, causing Flint’s cock to fill him almost to the hilt in one go, and he _screams_.

            The whole world halts and stops. Flint is gritting his teeth, hard, trying to cope with the heat and tightness that surrounds him; he barely can move to punish Silver for his irresponsibility. Outside, the crew freezes. A few seconds of complete silence pass by, only broken by the waves, and they go back to work slowly. De Groot is looking somewhere at the horizon, but he is definitely laughing, and Billy feels a strong blush heating his cheeks, finally connecting the dots.

            When Flint thinks is safe to move without coming on the spot he leans down, one hand covering Silver’s mouth and the other grabbing his neck once more. He pulls, forcing Silver up and against his chest.

            “Be fucking quiet.” He grunts, slowly finishing to push himself in up to the hilt, and the man shakes and moans against his hand. He suddenly moves his head, freeing his mouth before Flint can react.

            “Make me.” He dares to say, challenge painting his words. Flint knows what he means, but he won’t give in, not to that.

            Instead he removes his hand from his neck and grabs his hair again, so easily it feels as if he had been doing it all his life, and pulls Silver’s head back over his shoulder. The position forces Silver to arch his back and his neck is bent in such a way that the only sounds that leave his mouth are ragged breaths and broken moans. Flint’s roughness is maddening, it sends shocks of pleasure all over his body and he feels his eyes water at the overwhelming sensation of it all.

            Flint rests his forehead on Silver’s shoulder, panting and moaning low as he bottoms out. It feels so fucking good. He snakes his free arm around Silver’s waist to stabilize them both, and when the quartermaster throws an arm back to simply grab at the back of Flint’s head his vision blurs. Something inside him shakes wildly, tempts him into giving in, and although Flint doesn’t he pulls out of Silver after fucking into him slow and deep a few times. He lets go of him completely, allowing them both to catch their breaths for a second before turning him around. Silver understands and sighs, feeling the painful pressure on his severed leg disappearing the moment Flint helps him sit on the desk.

            Flint settles between his legs, a low whine escaping him when Silver guides his cock back inside him with his hand. He pulls Silver to the edge of the desk, letting him secure himself with his good leg around his waist. The first thrust makes Silver head fall backwards, his right hand on the desk and his left grasping Flint’s shoulder. It’s a mesmerizing sight, Flint thinks.

            He leans in to kiss Silver’s exposed throat, and the grip on his shoulder tightens, probably leaving marks. He grazes the skin with his teeth as he moves in and out of Silver. He no longer registers how loud they are, he doesn’t care, he needs Silver’s moans to echo in his head for days.

            Flint speeds up, fucking Silver hard enough to make the desk creak. He feels a drop of sweat slide down his back and suddenly Silver is resting his forehead against his own. Flint doesn’t move away but he does close his eyes, the thrill of the possibility ripping a broken moan out of him. Silver starts to push back, using the hand on the desk as leverage and the one on Flint’s shoulder pulls him closer, circling both his shoulders. It all means so much more now, and Flint’s pace falters, pleasure and need and something he doesn’t want to name overwhelming him.

            Silver is close, so fucking close he knows he’s going to come without having to touch his cock. He can feel the heat pool on his lower stomach, the tension building up, he’s so lost in Flint he can’t even hear his own moans. He looks at the captain, watches him moan and gasp and when Flint opens his eyes he sees Silver’s glued to his lips. Flint makes a face, barely able to think straight, so Silver decides for him. Silver blows up the last barrier.

            “I’m close.” He warns, shivering and moving closer to Flint’s face. The captain can only nod. “I’m so close, please, _James_.”

            Flint moans loud enough to be certain he has also been heard outside. He changes the angle but doesn’t go deep enough, fearing that the sound Silver will make would force the crew to actually complain. So he allows Silver to make the choice.

            “Fuck, _John_.” Flint whines, half protesting, half surrendering. Silver moans at the sound of his name.

            He finally thrusts in deep, reaching that bundle of nerves. He grabs the back of Silver’s neck to pull him closer and their lips meet. Silver cries out against his mouth, kissing back with a desperation that he finds it’s mutual. He tastes Flint’s tongue and feels him tense up, hips stuttering and hands grabbing at him with bruising force. And Silver is done. He feels a warm wetness fill him and he’s also coming, white stripes painting their chests as they keep kissing. They don’t stop to catch their breaths, they don’t pull away. Flint’s low whines crash against Silver’s mouth and the sound he makes in return is one that he doesn’t even recognize as his own. Even as the captain pulls out slowly, he flushes himself back against Silver and his free hand cups his cheek.

           Everything has changed and it’s now beyond salvation. They can’t go back now. Not as Flint kisses him as if his life depends on it, not as Silver envelops his arms around Flint, pulling him impossibly close and kissing back, lungs aching for air that he truly believes only Flint can provide.

          On the deck Billy sighs for the sixth time. There’s a chuckle behind him and he turns around, finding De Groot, Logan and Randall. They fall silent for a moment until Randall is the first one to speak, causing a trail of snickers and laughs through the crew.

          “I’m going to name the cat Whiskers.”

**Author's Note:**

> As I always say, English is not my first language so don't hesitate to tell me if there are any mistakes. I hope you like it! Comments are truly appreciated.


End file.
